Those Crazy Kids

When my dad shows up, my kids go crazy. They start off by yelling 'Pahpaw!' and one of them always runs to me to say 'Pahpaw here!' It's a given.

This morning, I'm sitting at my computer, debating on just how difficult it would be to get up and get another cup of coffee (there are some mornings where I seriously consider setting the coffee maker up on my desk- it would be so much easier), when I hear the familiar rumble of some kid's car going down the alley. I think nothing of it- there are plenty of kids who think that 'loud muffler' means 'hot rod', and one of them drives up and down the alley at least four times a day. Then my kids start yelling 'Pahpaw!'

It then dawns on me. I have Dad's car- his regular car. I stand up. I look out the kitchen window. I see his El Camino. I start to giggle- because I realized that the loud muffler that went by my window was not the property of some seventeen year old kid with a mistaken concept of 'cool'- but my 48 year old father driving his baby. He was here to get his GPS out of his other car so that he can test his El Camino's guages (yeah- I don't quite get it either, it's just best to smile and nod and say 'cool' every so often).

I'm going out to my parents' house this afternoon to do some laundry. Apparently there's something wrong with the motor, and Mike needs to replace it. There's no telling when this will happen. The washing machine still washes- but it doesn't like the spin cycle. It's ok for washing small things- but I really, really, REALLY need to wash blankets today. I was actually hoping to get something done around the house this afternoon, but I don't see it happening. Oh- and I'd like to actually scrap something today, but again- I don't see it happening. Ugh.